Kyros Anastos
Beginnings... "Kyr, wake up. We're heading out." Kyros started before the warrior even touched his shoulder, jarring awake from some dream of jade and steam. As his eyes focused, he realized that the normally stalwart Borric was looking at him strangely. My eyes, no doubt... Kyros thought to himself. He rubbed the bridge of his nose as if he was trying to sooth away a headache, but in truth, it was to keep his comrade from having to look at the blue Opal orbs which his eyes become when he has those dreams. The dreams were always so... alien that his memory wouldn't hold onto even the imagery for longer than a few moments, which seemed like the same amount of time his eyes remained in that strange state. And those were the only dreams he had anymore...ever since that night. It felt so long ago, but in truth, it couldn't have been that long ago. * * * * * * * * * * The strange misshapen creatures lay in heaps upon the stone floor, their distorted forms smoking ... or perhaps steaming. Gornarn, the mighty dragon warrior, let the blade of his great axe sink to the floor as he himself slumped back against the cavern wall. The adrenaline of the fight was leaving him, and it was hard to continue ignoring the giant blue tusk embedded in his side. Marith, the priestess, went to tend to his wounds while Corvus shifted the bodies of their two fallen allies into more respectable positions. Neither was in very good shape, and if the goblins they had chased off decided to jump them on the road, they were all as good as dead. Kyros didn't care about any of that. Right now, a whole host of orca found run him down and it wouldn't make much of a difference. They had been too late. His little girl lay lifeless in the center of the circle. They had stopped the cultist from opening that portal, but not before he had killed Mara. He didn't know how long he stood motionless staring down at her, or when he began kicking at the corpse of the cultist, but his boots were sticky with gore when he realized Corpus was pulling him back off the remains...and that a voice was shaking the cavern walls. I COME. The pressure in his head was intense. He heard the cries of pain from the heroes, it ... it was in all their heads. The priestess screamed in agony. And wisps of light began to flow around the little girl's wrists and ankles. Like a rag doll, they lifted her into the air, her lead lolling back like some perverse cry. No, Kyros screamed silently, you can't have her! She's dead and gone, but you can't have her! YES, THE RECEPTACLE IS FLAWED, IT CANNOT ACT AS MY AGENT. IT WILL BE A VESSEL INSTEAD. THE EARTH SHALL TREMBLE AT MY FEET, THE WATERS WILL BOIL AND THE MOUNTAINS SHALL CRUMBLE. I SHALL COME AS A DESTROYER. The heroes howled, the priestess clawing at her face. Kyros felt a wetness from his eyes and ears, smelled the coppery tang of his own blood. IT CANNOT BE STOPPED. THE FLOW OF MY BEING HAS BEGUN. BE IT A TRICKLE OR A FLOOD, I SHALL TOUCH THE WORLD. No, no, no ... you can't take her. Take them, take anyone, not her ... take me, not her. DONE. YOU WILL SERVE AND SHE WILL BE FREED. BUT YOU ARE WEAK. YOU CANNOT FULFILL MY PURPOSE AS YOU ARE. YOU SHALL BE INVESTED. What? I don't understaAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!! * * * * * * * * * * "That's it? That's all you wanted down here? That one stone?" Kyros bounced the small turquoise colored stone on his palm. It did seem trivial, although Selver had confirmed it was enchanted in some way, although no one in the group was familiar with the script finely etched across its surface. . The wizard had offered to identify the enchantment for a small fee, but even if he had offered to do it for free, Kyros would have said no. He suspected that the next thing he might be asked to do would be to eliminate those with knowledge of the stone's function. Plus, sometimes it just didn't pay to ask too many questions. "I'll take my share of the silver but this is what I'm here for." Which was a shame, since there was a lot of gold and gems, not to mention a magical dagger which had caught his eye. But Ôæþ had been very specific in his instructions: Take the inscribed blue stone from the vault. Carry nothing but moon steel from that room. Kyros walked over to the other side of the chamber, where the walls and pillars had crumbled. He placed the stone on the side of fallen pillar, and briefly considered the runes. Fine detail, and while not elvish, the script had a flow to it which he imagined was reminiscent of the fae. He didn't quite study it... just starred at it long enough that he might recognize the language if he saw it again... and then crushed the gem with a rock. Calmly, he stuck it over and over again until it was dust, pausing only twice to ensure he was striking all the pieces, turning it into uniform powder. His comrades watched him in silence, as he completed his Task, and then inspected the rock he had been using to crush the gemstone, ensuring that no fragments were left upon it. He tossed it to one side, then turned to face his friends, leaning back against the fallen pillar. No, it wasn't worth asking questions. Sometimes the answers wouldn't have made sense anyways. Background: Kyros was a simple man, raising his daughter as he worked in a local tavern. Like any father, he grew concerned when the young girl became interested in a newcomer to the village, but his friends convinced him to give her some space. But then a group of adventurers came to town a few months later looking for the newcomer. He was in fact a cultist who they had been chasing for some time. They believed that he had been collecting the necessary components to enact a ritual which would bring an ancient and terrible being through to this plane of existence (which would of course, herald untold devastation). Kyros followed the adventurers to the cultist's cave, as he had overheard them speaking of a sacrifice, and instinctively knew who that was to be. The adventurers slew the cultist and his minions, but not before the cultist had slain his daughter and started the ritual's effect in motion. The ancient being had sought to inhabit the girl's form, but now that she was dead, it could only use her essence as a gateway. To save her soul from destruction, Kyros offered himself. While he was not pure and thus suitable for the being to inhabit, the being chose to accept this Pact and use Kyros as its Agent, to enact some Plan which served it's desire. Game Information *Race: Human *Class: Warlock (Pact of the Tome, Great Old One Patron) *Other Oddities: **Often wakes suddenly from bizarre, half-remembered dreams. For a moment, as his eyes flash open, they are colored like blue opals (complete with the mottling, which seems to move and flow) **When the light is dim, one could swear that the whites of Kyros's eyes glow with the pale yellow color of moonlight **Are his canines pronounced, or was that just your eyes? The Patron Ôæþ is the closest Kyros's mind can come to wrapping his mind around his name. It is a truly alien being, seemingly beyond the concept of good and evil. At least, it seems to be beyond such concepts; whenever it refers to its agenda and the demands it makes of Kyros as the Task, or in some way which masks the morality of both these tasks and of itself. This has led Kyros to believe that it simply doesn't "get" good or evil, so he has just stopped trying to explain it. (This doesn't have to be the truth, but the Entity was able to be reasoned with: It wanted to step through to accomplish it's Task, but seemed just as content to allow an Agent to act on its behalf.) The Entity does not seem to operate in the same linear time as others. There are times when it speaks of tasks Kyros must begin, which were completed some time ago, and times when the Entity refers to efforts that (the girl) will soon take. As well, there is no rhyme or reason to the pattern of time between the Entity making demands... It's clear that Kyros is a link to this world for the Entity; there have been times when the Entity will merely "hover" over Kyros's shoulder and seek knowledge or understanding with something that Kyros equates to being between curiousity and frustration. Category:Sól Tenebrus